The concealed knowledge
Me: Is he young or someone of your age? What could be his age?
Grandpa: He is quite young.I don't know his age
Me: Is he short tempered? I mean gets angry at small issues.
Grandpa: No no! He is the calmest person you will ever see.
(I silently told myself "I hope so")
(Neither of us perturbed the noise of the streets.My hands swinging the plastic bag which carried various untouched books and some even unseen.The only restaurant serving its special customers, the temple ground being used for cricket could be seen till we reached the main road. The bridge provided shelter as we moved on. After crossing a number of shops, we reached the foot of the bridge and my grandfather broke the silence)
Grandpa: You see this barber's shop ? It's just near the end of the bridge. Remember this turn from here.
Me: Okay I will remember that.
(The people stared at us just as a foreigner entering an orthodox indian street. The roads could not be more thinner otherwise from one way road it would be one man road. I supposed that could be one of the reasons why they don't buy cars. At the fork of the road I perceived a house with lopsided roof, its walls showing the ages of experience, its windows desperate to collapse. I just wished this was not my Sanskrit teacher's house)
(I couldn't imagine that house even in my dreams. A little smaller than the previous one described above but in worse condition. The first gate swung open in a similar noise made by the haunted house. I was led by my grandfather. When we reached the door my grandfather knocked on the door with an old, oval ring hanging from the door supported with much confidence as he knew him since ages)
(My mind had conjectured all kinds of Sanskrit knowing pandits but he was not like them. A small moustache and a tika on his head, he let us in with a pleasing smile directed to my grandfather and a curious look at me.)
Grandpa: Here is your student. His name is Siddharth.
(I bent down and touched his feet as if forced by the eye movements of my grandfather. )
Grandpa: Now that your student is here, I think I should go now.
(He offered me a seat on the sofa which long had not been used. After I was seated, I fiddled with my books unable to understand which one to take out. At last I took out three books which appeared to be of grammar and placed it on the bed in front of me on which he was sitting.)
Me: Sir l am facing difficulties in the grammar of Sanskrit.
( After glancing the books for a while, he cleared his throat and told me)
Sir: You don't need these books as they aren't for you. Take out your notebook.
(Hurriedly, I took out my notebook and placed it in front of him so that he could write. His staring eyes symbolically told me that the notebook was for me and not for him. I placed the book facing me and ready to write.)
(After a few minutes, he gave me something to do and told me that he was going to drink water. First time I got the chance to see the room I was perhaps locked in. It had an age old bike with a broken mirror and no headlights, the cycle was in a better and in a usable condition. The blackboard[perhaps dustboard due to the dust on it] was tilted on which writing was quite impossible. The chairs placed on the table was painted with dust. Most interestingly, there was a book kept on the bed and the writings on it boasted its name as 'Meghdutam'. As my grandfather had told me that he was translating this very famous book)
Sir: Did you complete your work ?
Me: Just completed sir!
(After the longest 30 minutes of my life had passed, I stepped out of the place and the only thought that struck my mind was that:-
Knowledge does not reside in cities
Knowledge does not reside in villages
Knowledge resides in humble persons.
I saw the barber's shop and smiled to myself as I walked back home with an atom of that knowledge just as a drop in the ocean.) 
